“I don’t even know my father,” I tell her truthfully. “And besides, if Fiona’s right, he’s your son. Your blood.” Which makes me her blood too. The Queen’s lips pull back into a snarl. “But he was not only of our blood,” she snaps viciously. “Why do you think we cast him out of this world? Why do you think we abandoned him to his fate? The Dark King was his sire.” I blink, confused. “But you killed the Dark King,” I say, remembering the story that Pan had told me. “Yes,” the Queen hisses, looking far too pleased with herself. “We did. Because his devotion to us was naught but an act. He
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